


How Can You Help My Half-Pint Heart?

by augopher



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Derek and Stiles love bad disaster movies, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tumblr Prompt, shrunken stiles, witch spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/augopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles always knew his rambling would one day land him in trouble. He just had no idea it would result in something right out of "Alice and Wonderland," only without the 'Drink Me' bit.</p><p>Now, eight inches tall, he must find his way from the laundromat to a safe place. That safe place just happens to be Derek's loft, and Derek doesn't seem to mind his half-pint house guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Can You Help My Half-Pint Heart?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on tumblr prompt created by tea-and-outer-space:  
> “i was shrunk to 4 inches tall by a witch and now i kinda live in your kitchen without you knowing au”
> 
> I changed the prompt to have Stiles 8 in tall in this.

 

Stiles fed more quarters into the laundromat dryer. _See, Dad **this** is precisely why I wanted to pay the fifty dollars extra a month for that nicer place over on 4th. Not having to lug my laundry over here once a week would be awesome._ Now that his dad had downsized to an apartment of his own, Stiles didn’t even have the luxury of free laundry privileges. Where was he going with this? Oh yeah, so the machines at this place were ancient and took twice as many quarters to dry clothes as the label indicated.

He sat down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs to wait...and wait… and wait.

Eventually, the seat next to him filled up with a woman a little older than himself. She appeared to be equally as annoyed at having to wash her clothes here as he was. “Long day?”

“You have no idea. My machine broke this morning.” She flipped through a magazine.

“Bummer. I wish I could say the same, but nope, I’m here every week. This is what I get for choosing the cheap apartment. No on site laundry. Let me tell you, that is a joke. How hard is it for an apartment building to have a laundry room with like two or three machines each? I mean really? That’s like what? A two grand investment? Plus you get the revenue from all the quarters. Those things have to pay for themselves in like six month-”

“Please stop talking.” The woman gave him an uncomfortable smile and went back to reading.

“Oh yeah. Sorry. I tend to ramble. My dad said it’s because I was an early talker. Like super early, six months or so I just started babbling like crazy, getting several coherent words in the mix and by a year old I was talking in complete sentences. He said I never really quit talking after that. Scott says--that ‘s my buddy, Scott is, like a brother from another mother. Totally would walk through fire for that guy--anyway he says I tend to talk more when I’m bored, which would definitely explain what I’m doing now. Then Lydia said I talk when I’m nervous, which is ridiculous, because I am not nervous right now, but then come to think of it, I really tend to ramble around Derek, who is this super hot, but broody guy I know. We’re kind of friends, yeah I guess you could call us friends, I mean I have a major crush on the guy, the kind with major feelings involved. Anyway, he is...super hot. Like GQ model hot, and I would totally climb him like a tree if a) he would let me, and b) I weren’t the same height as the guy. So really, I guess no climbing is necessary, maybe just a lean on him like a tree. That makes no sense, maybe lean on him like a wall, or lean him into a-” The woman turned to him, and though she seemed to be talking, he could no longer hear her. In fact, he could barely see her through the haze of smoky powder she threw at him.

Coughing, he waved at the air, only to find her gone. “Dude, weird.” The buzzer went off on his machine, and rather than spend another minute in the place, he shoved all his clothes into his laundry bag and hightailed it out of there. For all he knew she’d just drugged him, and he wanted to be as far away as possible lest she take advantage of his lithe, but in his mind, no less appealing body. The slim aesthetic was like candy to some people, okay?

Though he was only two miles away from his place, he made it one before he started to feel lightheaded and nauseated. Rather than paint the inside of the jeep with vomit, he pulled over and exited the vehicle. Doubled over in dry heaves, Stiles noticed himself getting closer to the ground. _Oh God, she roofied me. I didn’t even know GHB came in powdered form. Next I know, I’m gonna wake up in a bathtub filled with ice, missing a kidney._ He expected to pass out any moment, but instead looked up and noticed everything around him was a whole lot bigger than it should be.

Turning around to glance at the Jeep, and damn near fell over. “She shrunk me! What kind of Alice in Wonderland bullshit is this?” Eight inches tall on the side of the road, a mile from home, in the dark, was not the way he wanted to spend his evening. _Think, Stiles, think. What would Spock do here?_

 

A noise in the bushes startled him, and he felt quite silly for his mounting terror when a rabbit hopped out from leaves. “Great, you’re scared of bunnies now. Just great.” At his current size, it would take him days to reach his apartment, and he sat down on the ground, dropping his head into his hands.

In the not-nearly-far-enough distance, an owl hooted. Realizing he was the size of a mouse, he began to cry. That’s it, he was going to be eaten. There would be no trace of him found except for undigested clothes in an owl pellet. No one would know what happened to him, and that was just not acceptable. After he managed to calm down, he zipped up his hoodie and searched the roadside for a rudimentary weapon, settling for the ink cartridge of a ballpoint pen. It would have to work as a pike.

It was late enough at night, and the street was seldom busy at this hour. So he went to task on the dangerous mission of crossing the road, bound for an address he knew to be four blocks away. Yeah, he probably would not be a welcome houseguest, but come on, they were pack, and he was seriously up a creek without a paddle right now.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

“Jesus Chri-” Stiles yelped as a cockroach jumped out from inside a littered soda can. He readied his pike and prepared for battle, but the insect scurried away. Panting, he clasped a hand over his racing heart and went to grab what he’d initially been after. The large , empty styrofoam cup would do nicely as a windbreak while he traveled. The breeze which had started nice and light had long since turned chilly.

Using his pen pike, he punched out two holes through which he could see and took a twig, running it through one side of the cup and out the other. Then, he hefted the cup over his head, letting the twig settle onto his shoulders like a yoke. The cup almost completely covered him; it was perfect.

His cell phone had luckily shrunken with him, along with everything that had been on his person when the spell (Yes, he’d decided it was a spell. Stiles had handled enough supernatural crap in his nineteen years to know a spell when he saw one) hit him. So, he knew he’d been walking for five hours now. It was three in the morning, and he was exhausted.

Nighttime was terrifying, not normally, no, but as small as he was now, the worst. He’d had an unfortunate run in with a stray cat forty-five minutes ago…

 

_...Orange paws, equipped with razor sharp claws swung at him. The only thing keeping him from becoming dinner was the motorcycle tailpipe he’d somehow managed to climb into with the angry and hungry tabby hot on his heels. As it was, he was too big to stand up in the thing and could only stab at the cat while sprawled on his ass._

_Snarling, the cat once more thrust its paw in after him. Stiles, on instinct scooted further back into the pipe. He’d been at this game for a while now, and the bitter taste of adrenaline was beginning to make him sick. They had this game going. The cat would swipe at him; Stiles would jab it with his pike. He’d only managed to land a few blows, and the animal did not seem to be in the mood to give up._

_Somehow, the cat’s paw came within half an inch from him, and Stiles stabbed in between its toes. With a yowl of pain, the cat retrieved its paw and gave up. Stiles sat there, trying to catch his breath and not succumb to the panic coursing through his veins…_

 

...Now, he had a block to go, and then the horrible task of figuring out how to get up five floors to Derek’s loft. Briefly, Stiles considered doing whatever it took to climb up onto the hood of his car and plastering himself against the windshield, but Stiles didn’t want to take the chance that the guy wouldn’t see him and drive off. Being thrown from the windshield at high speed did not sound like a good idea.

His feet hurt; more accurately, they were killing him, but life was treacherous this small, and he needed some place safe. Since when had he decided Derek’s loft was a safe place? Probably about the time Stiles realized he didn’t just find the guy attractive and actually developed feelings for him. Yeah that sounded about right.

Once again Stiles heard owls, and so he sat down on the ground, using his cup as shelter. He had plenty of room to sit comfortably, but, worried about the wind as well as predatory nocturnal birds, he looped the shoelace he’d taken from an abandoned shoe over the yoke, making sure to keep an end in each hand. If he was not strong enough to keep the cup on the ground in the event of a gust of wind, he would at least be blow away with it.

He took the opportunity to rest, leaning back against the Styrofoam walls and closed his eyes.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

As soon as he heard the birds begin to chirp, Stiles was up, deciding to just make a break for it to get there before it was too sunny out and people saw him. He’d run flat out for half an hour. Finally, he stood near the entrance to Derek’s building while he tried to figure out a way in. A noise behind him caught his attention. Someone Stiles recognized as living on the floor beneath Derek pushed a laundry cart up the walkway. No one in the building actually used the carts for clothes. Mostly, they were to bring groceries in from their cars and to their apartments in one trip. While the man fumbled with his keys looking for the fob for the outside door, Stiles crawled under the cart and hoisted himself onto the support frame.

With each bump the cart made as it moved, Stiles felt for sure that he would fall off and fall victim to the underside of the man’s shoe. Thankfully, his totally understandable paranoia was for naught, because soon, he found himself inside the confines of the elevator on its way up four floors. Stiles supposed he could just take refuge in the guy’s apartment, but even that did not feel safe. Once the doors opened, Stiles continued his cart ride. When the cart stopped outside the front door to apartment 4F, Stiles jumped off and pressed himself against the wall. Soon, he was alone in the corridor.

At the other end of the hall from the elevator were the stairs. He stood at the foot of them. “Damn.” The rise was too high for him to pull himself onto the stairs. His eyes scoured the hallway. There was a garbage can by the vending machines. Maybe someone was careless with their trash. As luck would have it, a lonely 5 Hour Energy bottle lay on the floor.

He looped his shoelace rope around the bottle and tied it off. Using it as a step stool, Stiles had a system worked out in no time.

 

1)Position bottle at riser

2) Climb onto bottle

3) Use it as stool to make it to the stair above

4) Grabbing shoelace, pull bottle up to stair with you

5) Repeat steps 1-4 as needed.

 

Winded, he collapsed onto the landing at the top of the flight of stairs and checked his phone for the time. Eight. Derek would be at work. Damn it. Then, a small detail he’d pushed to the back of his mind reemerged. There was a gap by the door that he’d told Derek to fix like a dozen times. That was how the mice got in on occasion. But, true to the ways of the rest of the pack, the guy didn’t listen to him.

Stiles dragged his bottle behind him towards Derek’s loft. Now that he thought about it, the gap was probably way too small for him to fit through, but he would try nonetheless.

As it turned out, if he crawled on his belly through the gap, he fit, but only barely. He needed a nap, and curled up on the rug underneath the dining room table beyond thrilled Derek had vehemently refused to get a pet cat to catch the occasional mouse. Stiles was sure he’d never like cats again.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

His growling stomach woke him several hours later. After removing both shoelaces from the pair of sneakers by the door, tying them together with the one he’d traveled with, Stiles wandered into the kitchen, using the slightly open drawers and knobs to get up to the counter. He tied the rope onto the top knob for easy coming and going. Hell maybe he’d rig up a pulley system and build an elevator. That would be pretty sweet after all it took to get here.

Derek had left a butter knife on the counter, and though the thing was really heavy, Stiles pried open the silverware drawer and began to rummage around. He found a broken plastic butter knife, and took the thing out for a possible tool. Eventually he found a set of chopsticks, like the kind that came with takeout, still stuck together and everything. They’d be perfect.

Standing on the countertop, he propped the chopsticks against the bowl of fruit like a ramp. Once in the bowl, he went to town on an apple, chomping at it until he was full. Though, he’d really like some water, the sink was on the opposite counter.

Instead, he busied himself with the box of toothpicks sitting there by the stove, too great a temptation to ignore.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Derek slid open the loft door, toed off his shoes by the door, and made his way into the kitchen. It had been a long day at work, and he really wanted a drink. However, as soon as he stepped foot in the room, he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the counter. When he’d left that morning, it had been spotless, save maybe a butter knife from his toast. He often forgot to put it in the sink.

Instead, he found himself face to face with a tiny village made from a combination of toothpicks, marshmallows and paper towels. What in the- He’d been just about to say the question out loud, when a little creature (? He honestly wasn’t sure what it was) in a red hooded cloak popped out from a building. Though he could only see the back of his head, Derek watched the little thing scurry up a rope ladder. Where in the hell did it get a rope ladder? His eyes then fell on the bundle of cooking twine on the counter. Had it built the ladder itself? From the open cabinet, the creature lowered down a net filled with Cheerios. Once it stood on the counter, Derek took a step closer. He didn’t want to startle it, because of all the things it could have done with his place, building a town on his counter seemed really quite innocuous.

“Hello?” He kept his voice low and non-threatening, and still the thing spun around, the bundle of whatever that was in its arms when flying. From where it fell, flat on its back, it waved at him.

In a high pitched voice he often associated with small pixies or mice, it spoke. “Hey, Derek.”

It knew his name? Derek stood at the counter and knelt down so that he was eye-level with it. The creature looked like- “Stiles?”

Stiles crawled over to a piece of pasta on the counter, campanelle to be exact, and brought the horn shaped semolina to his lips. “I had a run in with a witch...I think she was a witch anyway.”

“You don’t need the megaphone. Werewolf remember?”

Tiny Stiles blushed. “Oh right.”

“Stiles,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “why are you in my loft?”

“It was closest to where I got shrunken.”

“And you couldn’t have kept walking home?”

Stiles put his hands on his hips.. “Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to be eight inches tall, walking in the street at night?”

Derek couldn’t help but laugh at him. He was sure Stiles was using his  ‘I’m angry’ voice, but in that high pitch, it was just hilarious.

“I almost got eaten by a cat you inconsiderate jerk! Narrowly escaped with my life, I’ll have you know!”

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t; the whole situation was hilarious. “But what the hell have you built on my counter?”

Stiles spread his arms and looked around. “I was...bored. This is my town. You shall address me as Halamar Palerunner Lord of Faircliffe.”

Derek chuckled. “No. I shall call you Stiles creator of toothpick land.”

Stiles looked insulted. “That hurt, Derek. Do you know how much work this was at my size? I mean, yes, I know it’s only one building, a little fire pit, and the beginnings of others. What do you expect? I’ve only been working on it for seven hours.” Stiles huffed and shucked his sweatshirt, stowing it inside the little house he’d built. “I don’t even have furniture. So go ahead make fun of the hyperactive pint size human like you usually do.”

Derek smiled. “Do you want something besides Cheerios to eat?”

“Oh my god yes!”

“I had planned to order pizza. I can cut off little bites for you.”

Stiles looked down at his shoes. “Can I...I’m really thirsty.”

Derek nodded and sized Stiles up before rummaging in his fridge for something with a small cap. The Tabasco sauce would have to work. He made sure the thing was washed thoroughly and filled it with some cola from the fridge.

Stiles looked at him like he’d just given him a million dollars before lifting the cup, which looked almost comically large for him, to his lips, drinking it greedily. “Thank you.”

“What’s that?” Derek pointed to a medicine cup inside the “village.”

“I only have the clothes I’m wearing. I figured that would be my laundry facilities. Over here,” he said walking to where he’d erected a three sided shelter, “I thought I could put a little bowl for bathing.”

“Just how long do you plan on living on my counter?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say anything to me before she cursed me. I have no idea how long this spell might last. I’m just trying to make the best of a shitty situation.”

“And that means staying with me?”

Stiles scratched behind his ear. “Well, this is a safe place. I mean, at least I always felt that way. No pets that will eat me, no landlord coming in for maintenance. Oh, God! Can you call my dad? Someone is going to find my abandoned car, and he is going to freak!” When Derek picked him up, he began flailing. “Put me down! This isn’t funny! Down, right now!”

Derek smirked and walked over to his laptop and turned on Skype.

“You have my dad on Skype?”

“Sometime supernatural consultant for the Sheriff’s department remember?” While Derek waited for the call to connect, he set Stiles on his shoulder, who clung to his collar in a valiant effort to not fall off.

“Derek? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hey, Dad, so I’ve been shrunk by witches.” Stiles’ words did not seem to register with his father.

“Stiles, I don’t think he can hear you. So um, Sheriff, Stiles has managed, and don’t ask me how, to get himself shrunken by a witch.” Derek pointed to his shoulder only to see John squint.

“I don’t see-”

Derek picked up Stiles, holding him close to the screen. “So, I have no idea how to get him back to full size. I sort of just got home from work, and he was here making a mess of my counter.

“Hey! I said I was bored!” Stiles wriggled in Derek’s grasp.

“I’ll talk to Deaton in the morning. Stiles said you’ll probably find his abandoned Jeep down the road from the laundromat near his house.

“Uh huh.” John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stiles, what did you do now?”

Stiles threw up his hand. “All I did was talk to her, try to make small talk. I was nice!”

“He said he made small talk with her and was nice.”

Stiles patted his hand. “Thank you, Derek.”

“I see, and why did he go to your place?”

Derek sugar coated Stiles’ actual words. “Apparently, it was closest to where he’d pulled over. Makes sense, dangerous to be his size walking around.”

“Good point. Look, if you don’t want to deal with him, you can drop him off in an hour. I should be home then.”

Derek shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s no trouble for him to stay here. I’ll let you know what Deaton says.” He ended the call. “You wait here, yeah? I’ll go find you stuff to use for furniture.” He didn’t give Stiles time to protest and set him down next to the laptop.

When he returned ten minutes later, he found Stiles browsing Amazon, which was comical enough in itself, seeing him stepping on the keys to spell words, navigating the page by using his whole body on the touchpad to scroll as he browsed of all things, clothes for Ken dolls. Derek tried to stop the chuckle that escaped his mouth, but obviously he failed.

Stiles turned around and scowled at him. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up fuzzball. I don’t know how long I’ll be stuck like this, and if it’s a while I don’t want to wear the clothes on my back for the whole time! These are the closest I could find that would fit me.” Stiles pulled out his tiny wallet and fished out an even smaller credit card.

Derek couldn’t watch him struggle with the keys any longer. “Move over.”

“Hey!”

“Read me the number, and I’ll type it in for you.” As Stiles read, he typed. “I selected overnight shipping. It will be here the day after tomorrow. You’ll just have to wear those tomorrow. Sorry.”

Stiles thanked him and settled onto the couch cushion while Derek ordered pizza. As they ate, Stiles was more than grateful for the tiny bites Derek had chopped up for him and second capful of Coke he’d set in front of him. They sat and watched a movie for a while until Stiles hopped up and slid down the couch. Derek was about to ask what he was doing until he saw him walk down the hall towards the bathroom. He wondered how long it would be until Stiles called for help because he’d fallen in. Well, at least the guy could swim.

However, after half an hour, Stiles had not returned, and Derek went in search of him only to find him fumbling with a sock, one of his socks to be precise, on the nightstand. “What are you doing?”

Startled, Stiles shrieked, sounding much more mouse than human. “What does it look like? I’m making myself somewhere to sleep. Don’t worry, I’ll drag it to the counter and leave you alone in here, but I’m getting tired and-”

“You can sleep there. Just, well- Hold on a second.” Derek dug through his sock drawer and found his fluffiest pair of socks, the kind he wore when going for a run. The thicker material had to be softer than the pair that Stiles had...Did the guy pick them up off the floor? “Here. These are at least clean.” Derek folded one sock into the best possible pillow he could and cuffed the other one.

Stiles looked at him funny. “That’s… nice of you.”

“I have my moments.” Derek searched his closet for the pair of shoes he’d bought last week, removing the lid. From his drawer, he pulled out an A-shirt and laid it, still folded, into the lid, setting the sock and pillow into the lid.

Stiles eyed him warily. “What are you doing?”

“Try it out.” He watched Stiles toe off his tiny Converse and crawl across the ‘bed.’ “Well?”

“I would have been happy with the socks, but this is much softer.” Stiles swallowed hard. “This is very- thank you, Derek.”

“Well, I’ve heard stories about how much you flail in bed, and I figure the height of the nightstand is like a two and a half story drop for you. I think if you rolled off, you’d be hurt pretty badly. Can’t have that can we?”

Stiles looked down at his lap. “No. Why are you being so nice about this? I broke into your apartment, and-”

“You’re my friend, and you needed help. Stay put, k?”

Derek walked into the bathroom, where Stiles heard him turn on the faucet. When Derek picked him up a few minutes later, Stiles briefly entertained the thought that the man’s previous words had been a lie. The werewolf fully intended to drown him. Instead, Stiles saw the sink filled with a decent amount of bubbly water. Where the bottle of hand soap usually was, he saw two folded scraps of fabric and a cotton swab with some toothpaste on it.

“So, I cut down one of my more raggedy towels so you have one that will work for you. That other thing is, well you’ll probably hate it, but I use old T-shirts for rags around the house. I took a piece of one and tried to make you a tunic or something to wear to bed. I left a little capful of shampoo right there, and that is the best I could do for a you-sized toothbrush. Enjoy your bath. I’m gonna try and figure out something for you to use as a bathroom.” Derek left him alone, with Stiles simply staring after him.

The water felt perfect, and in truth, scaled to size, this was actually the largest bathtub he’d ever been in. Awesome. Sometime later, while he relaxed and let the warm water ease his aching muscles, Derek returned and set a box, which had formerly held instant oatmeal packets, on the counter. Stiles quirked an eyebrow at him.

“The best I could come up with.” Derek opened the door he’d cut into the box revealing a modified soda can inside. “This is well…”

“An outhouse. Why Derek, I didn’t know you were so crafty.”

“Neither did I. Do you need help with the stopper?”

Stiles eyed the lever to the stopper at the back of the sink. “Yeah probably.”

Derek leaned over and pressed it. As the water began to drain, he turned around to give Stiles some privacy.

“I’m done.”

He chuckled when he saw Stiles in the tunic, which was essentially one long piece of t-shirt with tied together at his shoulders with a sash tied around his waist.

“What is so funny?”

“I think you need to be wearing a laurel wreath.”

Stiles turned around to look at himself in the mirror. “I do look a little ancient Greek don’t I? Well thanks. For all of this. Honestly, I was just hoping you wouldn’t throw me out when you got home. This...above and beyond.” When Derek set him down on the nightstand, Stiles hugged his arm. “I really appreciate it.” He crawled into the sock sleeping bag and was out in no time.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Derek leaned over and released Stiles from the rubberband seat belt contraption he’d made to fit in his center console.

“Look, I appreciate your overwhelming concern for my safety, but I am just gonna say it, that is a very uncomfortable seat you made. Could we maybe...put a cushion or something in there? Please?”

Derek looked down at him from where he’d stuffed Stiles into his shirt pocket. "I’ll see what I can do. Duck.” The waiting room of Deaton’s clinic was not empty as he’d hoped it would be. He signed in with their standard cover name _‘Here to pick up Remus_ ’  and sat down to wait.

Scott filtered in to sit beside him about ten minutes later, Kira by his side. “So...where is he?”

Derek gave a subtle point to his shirt where Stiles stuck out a hand to wave at him.

“Seriously? He’s that small?”

Derek took a sip from the coffee cup in his left hand making sure to save at least a few drinks for Stiles as he’d promised. “Yep.”

“And he’s been running around your loft driving you crazy?”

He shook his head. “Well yes, on the running around. No on the driving me crazy.” It had been true. Though Stiles needed help doing things, Derek hadn’t minded at all. The two of them had spent the morning of Derek’s day off making rope ladders to make places around the loft more accessible for Stiles. In addition to the first one on the counter, there was now one by kitchen sink where Derek had filled a bowl with water for Stiles to dip his ‘cup’ into. They’d hung a ladder in the bathroom, one by the nightstand, and one up to the windowsill. The couch had been more difficult, and they decided on propping a yardstick up like a ramp. In truth, Derek didn’t mind having someone else around the loft. It was lonely living alone, and of everyone in the pack, he enjoyed Stiles’ company the most (He just never intended to tell him that or anything else involving the divulgement of feelings).

Finally, Deaton called them into the back. “Okay, what is it this time?”

Stiles popped his head out of Derek’s pocket. “Me, I’m the problem this time.” He waited for Derek to hold out his palm for him to climb onto and sit before continuing. Once his feet were firmly on the examination table, he pulled out his pasta megaphone and retold the story for Deaton. “So, I’m stuck like this, not even the size of a Ken Doll, and I’d really like to be back to my 5’11” self as soon as possible.”

Kira poked him in the side. “He’s so cute.”

Stiles batted away her hand. "Stop that! I am a grown ass man! I am not cute!"

Scott gripped his sides as he shook with laughter. "You kidding, Dude?  You're adorable."

Indignant, Stiles stomped across the table and took refuge beside some medical supplies where he crossed his arms over his chest and sat down in a huff.

"Really?  Was that necessary?" Derek rolled his eyes. "So, how do we get him back to normal?"

Deaton looked up from the book in which he currently had his nose buried. "Well, there's nothing in the books I have here about shrinking spells. I will look through the ones I have at home and touch base with my contacts. For the time being, it looks like you're stuck like that Stiles, and for all we know, there is a time limit on the spell. You could be good as new tomorrow."

Grumbling, Stiles took a roll of gauze, tied it to the faucet, and then kicked it off the table. He scaled down the gauze rope and tugged on Derek’s pant leg as if to say ‘We’re out of here.’ “Come on, Argyle. I can’t stay at Nakatomi Plaza one minute longer.”

“What?”

“Only the coolest, most fun chauffeur in movie history.”

Derek looked down at him and cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh my, God. Die Hard? The giant stuffed teddy bear? “Yippie-ki-yay.’ You are no help at all. Fine, get me the hell out of Dodge. Is that better?”

Derek shook his head, bending down to pick him and stow him back in his shirt pocket.

  


*   *   *   *   *

 

Derek came home from work to find Stiles sitting, forlorn, on the window ledge staring out at the street. He’d had a long day and needed a beer, but something about Stiles’ posture, slumped, clutching at his knees, curled in on himself, said he might as well. Problem though.

How much beer was too much for a person of his size?

He’d start with a capful. The last thing he wanted to do is give the guy alcohol poisoning. From the fridge, he plucked a nice cold bottle and cracked the top, using a medicine dropper he’d purchased to facilitate filling the mugs and cups he’d bought to pour Stiles a cold one. That was an experience he’d rather soon forget…

 

… _Derek walked into the toy store. He could not believe he was willingly buying Barbie accessories for Stiles, but as the days ticked by, he had come to realize, the_ _Tabasco cap was not sufficient a cup, and the guy probably needed dishes._

_Halfway down the doll aisle, he noticed the tea set and dinner table set, purchasing them both as well as a toy skateboard. As he brought the items to the register, he tried to ignore the 'Aww, how cute' and 'Why is a grown man buying Barbie toys' from a couple of customers._

_"It's my niece's birthday," he spit out awkwardly. He just couldn't take the stares anymore..._

 

...Stiles had damn near cried when Derek gave them to him.

He crossed his living room and set the cap down next to him.

Stiles glanced over at it and chuckled. “Trying to get me drunk, D? Pretty sure my dad would frown on you giving me alcohol.”

“Like you’ve never drunk before. Stiles, I’m not gonna force you to drink it. You just look like you could use a beer, but I am cutting you off at two capfuls. Not sure how much booze your body can take right now.”

“Look at you being responsible. Thanks.” Stiles lifted his cap and clinked it against Derek’s bottle. “To crappy days.”

“So…” Derek took a long pull on his bottle. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’ve been stuck like this for three weeks, D. I can only convince my professors I have mono for so long, and I mean, you’ve been great, letting me dictate my assignments to you so you can email them over. But...what if I’m stuck like this forever?"

"We'll figure something out."

"How can you be so sure?"

Derek took a drink. "Well if you were nice to her like you said, then she'd only have done this to annoy you, and I'm choosing to believe there was a reason for this other than to mess with you."

"I wish I had your positivity." Stiles finished his drink. "What do you say to browsing SyFy's On-Demand options for the worst bad disaster movie we can find?"

Derek laughed at their shared love of B-Grade or worse disaster flicks. "Sounds like a plan. Ever catch Ice Twisters?"

"Better yet, let's pick any one of the classics starring Caspar Van Dien. Those things are so awful they're practically genius."

Derek picked him up and carried him to the couch, setting him down on the cushion next to him, and if Stiles happened to fall asleep curled up against his hand, well then Derek didn't say anything.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Derek awoke sometime in the night, a sound rousing him from his sleep. He opened his eyes and scanned for the source. He was about to turn and ask if Stiles had heard it, when he noticed the bed on the nightstand was empty. Getting up, he sought out the sound, his senses on high alert, especially given the unknown whereabouts of his tiny houseguest.

Though quiet, he'd grown accustomed to the sound of Stiles' heartbeat, faster than it was in his full sized body. Now as he focused on it, he heard not one but two quiet, rabbiting hearts, and that alone was enough to scare him into action.

Two steps outside his bedroom, he heard a crash in the kitchen.

If only he'd heard just Stiles' heart, maybe he'd ignore it, but he couldn't take the chance. There was another clatter followed by a tiny shout, and an overwhelming smell of fear filled his nostrils. He hurried to the kitchen where he found Stiles engaged in a life or death battle.

With a massive rat.

Stiles, armed with the meat thermometer, jabbed at the beast, making as much noise as possible to try and scare it off. However, he found himself outmatched in both skill and size. Silverware littered the counter; the container which held the cooking utensils had been knocked over.

Derek didn't even have time to act when the rat lunged at Stiles, and he felt his stomach in his throat when he heard the scream of pain. He grabbed the convulsing rat by the tail and tossed it in box, thermometer sticking out of its chest and all. He’d deal with it later. Right then, Stiles was his only concern. His eyes darted over to the counter where Stiles lay dazed and bleeding.

Derek’s heart sank.

With gentle fingers, he tapped on the side of Stiles’ face, shook his shoulders a little trying to rouse him. After a few moments, Stiles groaned, his tiny fingers going to rub at his head.

“Did I get ‘em?”

"Yeah.”

Stiles tried to sit up and immediately grabbed his side. “Ah!” He moved away his shirt from his side, shaking fingers palpating the skin underneath. When he pulled them back and saw blood, he started to panic. “Oh my god. I’ve been bitten by a rat! I’m gonna die! I am going to catch rabies and die, because they sure as hell don’t make rabies prophylaxis for humans of my size. I don’t want to be Old Yeller, Derek. And oh god, what will that do to my dad? I can’t-”

“Stiles, there have been no documented cases of rat to human rabies transmission in the United States. Plus, the rat was angry, he didn’t smell rabid.”

“Ever hear of rat bite fever, D?”

Derek slid a piece of cardboard under Stiles’ back and carried him to the bathroom. After checking him for double vision and the basic signs of a concussion, Derek decided he’d take him to Deaton in the morning, just in case. Then, using a cotton swab and peroxide, he cleaned the wound on Stiles’ side. It wasn’t too deep or bleeding all that much, so he figured just cleaned and bandaged would work. As a precaution he put some antibiotic ointment on a bandage and applied it to Stiles’ midsection.

The bandage went all the way around his waist twice.

“There you go. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” He carried him into the bedroom. “What were you doing in the kitchen so late anyway?”

Stiles mumbled something under his breath that Derek couldn’t quite make out.

“What was that?”

“I wanted some ice cream. And thanks to your spatula, I had the freezer door open too. Then that rat bastard had to show up and ruin things.” He paused when he felt Derek turn around and head for the kitchen. “What’re you-”

“Late night snack and bad TV.”

“But you have work in the morning.”

Derek shrugged. “You just had a fight with an R.O.U.S that could easily have killed you. I think I can handle being a little tired at work tomorrow.”

Stiles stared at him, slack-jawed for almost five minutes. In fact, his shock hadn’t worn off by the time his stomach was filled with ice cream and Derek found something for them to watch. Eventually, Derek noticed Stiles’ silence.

“Are you doing okay? You’re awfully quiet.” Which was a warning sign even in his normal size, Derek reasoned. In his pint size form, and post fight, worried him.

Stiles stared down at his lap. “I’m not your pet. You don’t have to take care of me. It’s...I mean… you’re not obligated to. I just needed some place safe to rest until I figured out what to do. Here we are, six weeks later, and I’ve had to withdraw from the semester because I am still eight inches tall with no end in sight. You’ve given up any kind of fun in the evenings just to hang out with me. You don’t- I can take care of myself, large rodents and insects excepted.”

Derek glanced down at him. “Maybe I want to help you. Did you consider that? That with everyone else busy with school and your dad’s job keeping him tied up all the time, maybe I didn’t want you to be alone. Besides, you’ve been a good roommate. I’ve liked having you here.”

Stiles gave him a little nod, but didn’t meet his eye. “Well, thanks. Hopefully, this stupid spell wears off before _I_ wear out my welcome, and you get tired of having me here.”

The ‘ _I’d never get tired of having you close’_ died on Derek’s tongue.

  


*   *   *   *   *

 

Stiles had fallen asleep on the couch during a marathon of the Sharknado Trilogy, and Derek put him bed, deciding to finish watching the third film without him. By the time it ended, he was almost asleep himself. As he approached the bedroom though, he could hear Stiles awake inside.

He was crying.

“Hey,” Derek said softly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, “you okay?” He nudged Stiles’ leg with his knuckle.

“No.” Stiles pulled his knees tighter into his chest, wrapping his arms around them in a vice grip.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Doesn’t matter. You can’t help me.” He sniffled and sighed. “I’m gonna be stuck like this forever, and I’m never gonna get to say- forget it.” He lay down and curled into the fetal position. “Sorry I interrupted your movie or whatever. I’ll try and be quieter.”

Derek lay his hand, palm up next to Stiles, and though it took him a few moments to give in, he crawled onto his palm. Derek brought him to eye level, and no matter how many times he picked him up and carried him around the loft, he still felt his heart stutter, because he literally held his heart in his hands every time, and that, well that was an overwhelming thought. “Hey, what is it? You can tell me.”

“Well yeah I can, but it won’t matter. Not when I’m like this and you’re- It would solve nothing. So, yeah. Not only am I going to be this size forever, I’ll also be alone forever.” He wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I might as well get out of your hair then, find someplace I can turn into a monastery.” He jumped off Derek’s hand and onto the mattress, even making it halfway down the rope ladder before Derek plucked him up and set him on the nightstand.

“Don’t leave.” He pleaded, snuggling under his blankets. His head propped up on his arm, faced Stiles. “I wouldn’t want you to be alone, even if you weren’t this size.”

Stiles took a deep breath. “I’m not talking about being around friends, Derek. You get that right? I’m…” He looked down at his feet. “I like you… a lot, like maybe more than that, have for years, and fuck if I could ever do anything about it stuck like this. So, go to sleep and forget I said anything. It’s better for everyone if you do.”

Derek took a shuddering breath. Stiles liked him, wanted to be with him? That was something he’d always wanted and never dared to hope would happen. How cruel to have it come to light in this way. Still, he needed to put Stiles’ mind at ease instead of letting him wallow in misery. “What if I don’t want… to forget you said it?” He hoped his expression conveyed sincere affection, but with his eyebrows, he wasn’t sure.

“That’s okay I totally under- What?”

Derek leaned over and kissed the top of Stiles’ head, the only place really big enough to do so. “It’s mutual, you know. I let you stay, made sure you were comfortable and could be mostly self-sufficient, helped you, because I care about you, and I’d...be happy if you never left.”

Bug-eyed, Stiles jumped from the nightstand onto the bed and crawled towards Derek.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked when he felt tiny arms at his neck.

“I’m hugging you. In case you hadn’t noticed, my arms are a little short.” He nuzzled at Derek’s throat. “I’d kiss you if I thought you’d feel it.”

“Don’t move.” Derek glanced at his shoulder to make sure he wouldn’t crush him if he turned over, and rolled onto his back. He patted his chest. “Come here.” He smiled as Stiles climbed onto his chest. “Comfy?” He asked as Stiles’ little hands fisted in his shirt.

“Yeah.”

He could hear the smile in Stiles’ voice as he pulled the sheet up to cover them both. “I’ll be waiting for that kiss when you return to full size.”

“Deal.”

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Derek’s mouth felt like cotton when he awoke the next morning, but he’d slept better last night than he had in years. There was something to be said for getting feelings off your chest. Speaking of chest.

He brought his hand to his chest to make sure Stiles was okay, only to find the space empty. He checked the space next to him on boths sides, sighing in relief when he didn’t find Stiles’ mangle body smashed underneath his own. It had been a legitimate fear, honestly.

Figuring Stiles would be back soon, Derek fell back asleep, waking sometime later to the smell of coffee. Rubbing his eyes, he blinked in confusion. He hadn’t rigged up a way for Stiles to make coff- He rolled over and found himself staring into Stiles’ bourbon colored eyes, his very full sized eyes.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty. I’m making pancakes.” Stiles smirked and leaned forward to capture Derek’s lips in a kiss.

“How-”

“Time limit? Confession of feelings? Learned my lesson? I don’t really care.” He mumbled, breathless, against Derek’s mouth.

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and pulled him onto his chest, never breaking the kiss. For as many times as he’d imagined how this would go, how Stiles’ lips would feel--would they be as soft as they looked--on his, how he would taste, Derek found his imagination to be a poor imitation at best.

Stiles kissed Derek like he was suffocating, and Derek was air. Two months he’d been stuck in that shrunken form, and there was no way he was holding back so long as Derek was on board, which given the way the man kept moving his hands, like he needed to touch every bit of Stiles he could, he definitely was.

They were so wrapped up in each other’s presence and embrace, they forgot about everything else. Including the pancakes on the stove.

 

They went out for breakfast instead.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on tumblr: captaintinymite.tumblr.com


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